Death of an Irish Diva by Mollie Cox Bryan Read Free Book Online Page A

than ignorance. She couldn’t dwell on it, or her blood pressure would skyrocket. As if she didn’t have enough to worry about. But if the NMO didn’t have anything to do with Emily’s murder, who did? And was the murderer really trying to frame Vera?

Chapter 11
    Vera’s mother had seated them next to one another. Was she harboring the hope that she would get back together with Bill? Hard to believe. Beatrice had never really liked Bill. Well, she had for a while, when he stayed with her. But these days, Beatrice was back to not liking him, and her mother never minced words or feelings.
    â€œPass the potatoes, please,” Vera said to him. He did so, avoiding eye contact. He held a smitten Elizabeth on his opposite knee. Beatrice had tried to get her to sit at the table in her own chair, but nothing doing. Elizabeth hadn’t seen her father in three weeks and stuck to his lap.
    Vera spooned the potatoes on her plate, noticing that Dr. Reilly was watching her. She looked up at him and smiled. “Mama has a way with potatoes,” she said.
    â€œIndeed,” he said. “With everything. This is a delicious meal.”
    â€œQuite,” his wife said.
    â€œThank you kindly,” Beatrice said, looking pleased with herself.
    â€œSo I understand you are a business professor,” Jon said to Dr. Reilly.
    He nodded. “Yes. I specialize in marketing. I’m also consulting for some Irish music groups and researching the influence of Irish music on Appalachian music for them. Great fun.”
    â€œFascinating,” Vera said, though she could care less about it. “Did you hear about Emily McGlashen?”
    Leola Reilly spoke up, with her mouth half full. “Oh, yes.” Vera had never seen the woman wear anything but a long denim skirt. She had been beginning to wonder if she wore anything else. But tonight she wore a black skirt and a white shirt. Very simple and almost in the same style as the denim skirts she wore.
    â€œWe knew her work, had run into her at many Irish music and dance festivals. It’s a small community,” Dr. Reilly explained. “We are waiting on word about her memorial service or something. Nobody seems to know a thing.”
    Vera squirmed in her chair. She wasn’t sure how much Detective Bryant and Annie would appreciate her adding to the conversation.
    â€œIt’s the oddest thing, really. She was quite the superstar in Irish dance and traditional music circles, but nobody seems to know a thing about her personally. What makes it even stranger is that the nature of the traditional art form is that you see a lot of the same families, you know, for generations in the field. Even if families aren’t in the art, they are around in support. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody around Emily. She was a loner,” the professor said.
    â€œI understand her parents are on their way, but it’s taking them a while to get here,” Vera said after a few moments.
    Leola coughed a bit and reached for her wine. Goodness, her face was red from just a little cough.
    â€œSuch a shame. Such a young woman,” Beatrice said, then changed the subject. “I do love good bluegrass, and I have quite a collection of local music. You’re welcome to check it out anytime.”
    â€œThat would be lovely,” Dr. Reilly said. “How is the apartment, Vera?”
    Vera felt Bill’s eyes scanning her. “It’s fine,” she said. “We’re doing okay there.”
    Vera looked back at him and smiled, then glanced over at his wife, whose face was still pink, her eyes bloodshot and red rimmed. Their eyes met, and Leola quickly looked away.
    â€œI’ve thought about this for a while, but you look so familiar to me, Leola,” Vera said. “How do I know you?”
    Leola wiped her mouth with her linen napkin and shrugged. “I don’t know. We are from North Carolina but have traveled a